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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23294959">Midnight Talks</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloaked_saurosuchus/pseuds/cloaked_saurosuchus'>cloaked_saurosuchus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>.....I GUESS??, Gen, fighting bear-monsters and corrupt barons and shit, platonic fluff, tfw all your childhood friends are already out there</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:41:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,383</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23294959</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloaked_saurosuchus/pseuds/cloaked_saurosuchus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jenny finds a certain scribe in the middle of an existential crisis when bringing him a late-night snack.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jennifer "Jenny" Dalby &amp; George Carter (Ranger's Apprentice)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Midnight Talks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jenny quickly scaled up the stairs leading to George’s room, a tray of freshly baked donuts in hand.</p>
<p>As she suspected. A flickering light seeped from under the door. He was <em>still</em> hard at work on something. She grinned and knocked on the door. “George, I’m coming in!”</p>
<p>She saw the familiar scrambled movement as she entered. “George, how many times do I have to tell you? It’s like 11PM, you shouldn’t be working at this hour. Look, I brought some fresh-” Her eyes fell to the crumpled papers surrounding the desk and a certain scribe trying to pick them up, rather frantically, not even looking up to her. “George? Is everything okay?”</p>
<p>“Y-yes! It’s fine- I’m fine.” He hastily swept more crumpled papers off the desk and tried to throw Jenny a quick smile. Keyword: <em>tried</em>. It’s kind of hard when you’re also trying to avoid all eye contact.</p>
<p>“George.”</p>
<p>“No no no- I’m fine I swear!”</p>
<p>“<em>George.</em> I can tell that you’ve been crying.” Jenny’s voice softened up and she placed the tray onto the table, walking closer to the scribe, filled with worry. “Your eyes are red.”</p>
<p>George took a step back and vehemently shook his head. “No- I haven’t- I-” As he met Jenny’s gaze, he finally realised that resistance is futile. He sighed and seemed to deflate a little. “Y-yeah. Okay. You’re right.”</p>
<p>“Well then.” Jenny smiled softly and George responded by a rather pathetic try at the same expression. “It doesn’t seem like you’ll do much more tonight. You shouldn’t, anyway. Want to go downstairs, get some fresh and, of course, <em>delicious</em> baked goods and maybe a cup of tea? And maybe a word or two, if you want.”</p>
<p>George silently nodded and wiped away a tear as he exhaled with a slight tremble.</p>
<p>“Alright.” Jenny picked up the tray again and snuffed out her nearest candle, motioning at George to do the same. “Let’s go.”</p><hr/>
<p>The castle’s kitchen was filled with sweet aroma, left over by the last batch of late-night baking. George and Jenny sat at a small table by the window. Or, actually, the scribe was laying face down on the desk for the last five minutes or so, his hands sprawled between the cups and a half-eaten plate of sweet rolls in a rather pathetic fashion.</p>
<p>Finally, he took a deep breath and picked himself up again. His eyes were still red, but he wasn’t trembling anymore. Okay, sweet rolls and chamomile tea seem to work, Jenny noted to herself.</p>
<p>“It’s just-” George started, but immediately seemed to lose words. Jenny patiently waited until he found them again. “It’s just weird. Horace and Will, I mean.” Jenny rose an eyebrow, and the scribe noticed. “Oh, no- no. They’re still my friends and I love them, of course. It’s just… They’re already out there, saving the kingdom, like nobody’s business. And meanwhile, I… I am just sitting behind a desk, being useless. They’re putting their lives on the line while <em>I</em> am <em>here</em>, just reading through documents and it feels like I’m not being helpful, you know?”</p>
<p>“Do you think that the only ways someone can be helpful is swinging a pointy metal stick around?” Jenny responded. “Do you think that I’m not being helpful, just because I spend my days cooking?” she added with slight amusement.</p>
<p>George perked up at the allusion that his friend wasn’t being helpful. “No, no! Cooks are important in keeping morale up and castles working, and-”</p>
<p>“That’s my point, George,” she interrupted him with a wave. “I don’t think you think that, don’t worry. But we need people like you too. I don’t want to see what would become of this kingdom if you all weren’t handling all the deceptively small details and paperwork, you know?” Jenny smiled at him, her eyes filling with hope. Maybe that was it?</p>
<p>George’s shoulders sagged and her hope vanished.</p>
<p>“Yeah. I guess that the kingdom needs good scribes.”</p>
<p>He paused.</p>
<p>“That’s the problem. Jenny, I don’t think I’m a good enough scribe.”</p>
<p>“Wha-”</p>
<p>“Jenny, you’re a wonderful cook, even if you’re ‘just’ an apprentice right now. You’ve always been amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anything of yours that tasted even <em>remotely</em> bad. But me?”</p>
<p>He vaguely gestured at his person.</p>
<p>“I am a <em>terrible</em> apprentice! I keep mishearing and misunderstanding directions! I keep messing up my assignments! I don’t <em>feel</em> like I’m good at this, more like the opposite! How am I supposed to <em>help</em> anyone if the <em>one</em> thing I’m <em>supposed</em> to be good at isn’t even my strong suit?” He was near to tears again. “Everyone <em>thinks</em> I’m a good scribe because I had the… <em>talents</em> needed but if they saw me, they’d see how I fail, they’d see through the mask and facade and figure out that I’m not really good for anything, they’d figure out that I’m really just a fraud and-”</p>
<p>“George, it’s okay!” Jenny stepped in to stop the barrage of self-criticism and softly took his hand. “We all struggle. It’s a part of the process of learning. I think you told me that, like two years ago, huh? Quoting one of the smart books you were reading,” she grinned at him.</p>
<p>“But that’s… I’m not sure I believe that. Will never struggled. Horace never struggled. <em>You</em> never struggled with cooking. But I-”</p>
<p>“Oh, that just <em>seems</em> like it. It’s hard to spot mistakes in something you don’t really understand. But it’s <em>awfully</em> easy to find errors in something you’re knowledgeable about, but not <em>nearly</em> as easy to get to the point where you can fix them.”</p>
<p>George’s slightly raised eyebrow told her that he’s not entirely sure if he should believe her or not.</p>
<p>“And believe me, I struggled. I still struggle with cooking sometimes! I just have a lot more experience under my belt than you do with being a scribe. It’s kind of unfair to you, to be honest,” she grinned at him. “Just last month, I ruined an entire batch of pastry by adding too much cinnamon, and then just kept making it worse as I was trying to fix it. But Chubb seemed to know exactly what to do and nobody outside of the kitchen really learned about my perfect, genius, totally-not-completely-botched cough-inducing swirls,” Jenny concluded with an over-the-top confident gesture. It seemed to have the desired effect and George let out a quiet chuckle.</p>
<p>“But what if I’m just not cut out to be a scribe?” he asked, a little calmer.</p>
<p>“Do you think Nigel knows what he’s doing?”</p>
<p>“O-of course I do-”</p>
<p>“Then trust him in that he’s a better judge of this than you are,” Jenny smiled at him. “<em>And</em> I’m sure he struggled as an apprentice too, I bet he’ll tell you all sorts of stories like that, if you just ask him. Didn’t he even say something like that on Choosing Day?”</p>
<p>“Hah, yeah. You’re right.”</p>
<p>“And if even after you ask him you feel like you’re not up to being a scribe, I’m sure you won’t just get lost. You’re one of the smartest people I know, you’ll help out people around you without you even knowing about it,” Jenny grinned.</p>
<p>George wiped away another tear and smiled. “Thanks.”</p>
<p>“No problem.” Jenny paused for a second. “If you ever feel like you need to talk or could use an outsider’s perspective, don’t hesitate to come to me.”</p>
<p>“Noted,” George’s smile widened.</p>
<p>“Great.” Jenny stood up and the scribe jumped up a little at the sudden movement. “We both should go to bed now, though. No wonder you’re feeling bad when you’ve been awake for <em>this</em> long.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah, good point.” George stood up too and laughed. “And I <em>know</em> that happens when I work late. But I still do it, for some reason. My brain just decides: Ah, wonderful. Let’s do exactly the thing I know has negative consequences.” He gave an exaggerated shrug. “Who needs a functioning brain anyways?”</p>
<p>They laughed together for a few seconds and the air got significantly lighter.</p>
<p>“Good night, George. See you around.”</p>
<p>“Good night, Jenny. And thanks for the sweet rolls, they were <em>exquisite</em>, I could write a book about how-”</p>
<p>“Shut up and go to bed before you turn into a bard, you fool.”</p>
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